


Celestial Perception

by blueskiessunshine (rainydayrambling)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sam's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayrambling/pseuds/blueskiessunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cas chooses to become human, he has some trouble understanding his new metaphysical state.  Dean helps; Sam muses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celestial Perception

Sam thought that maybe it would have been easier if they hadn’t known it was coming – if they hadn’t spent months with the knowledge hanging over their heads. Maybe they should have been able to prepare. But how do you prepare for your angel best friend to become human in a painful ritual reminiscent of surgery?

For days afterwards, Cas wandered with wide eyes, as if now that his eyes were merely human, they didn’t see the world as well. They’d gotten him a pair of glasses, and they seemed to help, but he still stared with those wide blue eyes.

The worst of it was how confused he seemed. None of them had expected that being suddenly human would mean that Cas would have such a radically different way of experiencing the world. He’d been in a human body, after all – how could they have known it would be so different just because it wasn’t a vessel anymore?

He was constantly trying to reacquaint himself with things he had known for years, trying to get his bearings not in a new place, but in a new metaphysical state.

Once, Sam and Dean had left the “bat cave” for half an hour to pick up some food for dinner. When they’d come back inside, it was to see Cas, standing in front of the stove, reaching to press the palm of his hand to the glowing burner.

Dean reacted first, dropping the bags of food in his arms and flashing across the room, but he was too late. He had both arms around Cas in an instant, and he pulled Cas away from the stove, but his hand was already burning bright red. Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, face livid, and yelled, “First aid – now!”

Sam dropped his bags as well and went off in search of the first aid kit. When he came back with it, Dean and Cas were seated on the couch, Cas with his sleeve rolled up past his elbow and Dean with his hands wrapped around Cas’s arm, holding his burnt palm open. They were pressed tight, shoulder to thigh. Dean was mumbling something too low for Sam to hear, and it sounded as though he was trying to sound angry, but instead he only sounded scared.

It was funny actually – Sam had never heard Dean sound like that when it wasn’t because of Castiel. Whenever Cas disappeared, especially if the circumstances were murky, Dean’s voice was tinged with it for a while.

Sam placed the first aid kit on the little table in front of his brother and their friend. Dean looked up, away from Cas, for just long enough to offer Sam a nod of thanks. Then his attention was focused completely on Cas again. If he cared or even noticed that Sam just stood there watching them, he didn’t give any sign.

Sam enjoyed watching Dean and Cas like this – when they were just sitting together, or Dean was trying to explain something like classic rock or the concept of Saturday morning cartoons.

He enjoyed it because – even in moments like this, when Dean was frightened and anxious, and Cas was looking vacant except in those instances when Dean caught his eyes – Dean was so at ease. Sitting with Cas, taking care of Cas, laughing with Cas, had become Dean’s element. It was where Dean belonged, by Cas’s side.

And it would have been foolish to think that it wasn’t exactly the same for Cas, who looked so tranquil leaning against Dean’s shoulder, who could unwind around Dean like he couldn’t around anyone else – not even Sam.

He enjoyed it because Dean was as invested in Cas as he was in the Impala – which was saying a lot, for Dean. He cleaned Cas’s burnt palm, wrapped it in gauze, as attentively as he would repair a dent in the Impala’s roof, and with even more tenderness. As his hands worked around Cas’s, Dean was speaking low, practically humming the words. “You can’t just do things like that, Cas. You’re human now; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m trying to acquaint myself with this state, Dean,” Cas replied, staring at Dean’s hands on his. He spoke as if this were the most logical thing in the world – as though it made perfect sense to touch his hand to a hot stovetop. “How can I know what I’m capable of, if I don’t test my limits?”

Dean shook his head, exasperated, yet resonating with that special brand of patience that only Cas received. “Read a book,” he said, “or ask me, if it’s that big a deal. But don’t hurt yourself. Understand?”

Cas looked up, met Dean’s eyes for a moment, then looked down at his burnt hand again. It was bandaged now, but still it was resting absently in Dean’s, as though Dean had simply forgotten to pull away. “Yes, Dean.”

Sam enjoyed these moments because he could see Dean and Cas practically unfurl together, and he wasn’t even sure they knew it. Sometimes they were so wrapped up in each other that Sam could do jumping jacks and they wouldn’t notice.

It never bothered Sam to be witness to this. Did he wish he could have something like it? Sure. Who wouldn’t? But Sam enjoyed seeing these moments because he enjoyed seeing his brother not just happy, not just laughing and grinning and taking on the world, but content. With Cas, Dean was home.

Sam realized something as Dean packed up the first aid and Cas’s eyes followed his movements: that despite the glasses, despite the disorientation, Dean was the one thing Cas still looked at the same way.


End file.
